Theirs
by VirgoLee
Summary: Voldemort's life has been encompassed by fear. It was always lurking on the very edges of his psyche, taunting him, waiting to strike when he least expected. Severus comes to him when he needed him most, he finds out why his Lord is who he is, and in doing so he and Severus discover what it truly means to feel love, and love in return. (Fluffy angst, seriously, gives you cavities)


He felt something different when he was called. The burn on his forearm was not as painful, but it was throbbing for a lot longer; even after he arrived at the Malfoy manor.

There was a mad glint in Voldemort's eyes.

His hands were shaking.

His breathing was deep but staggered; erratic.

He looked, truly for the first time since the grave yard 'incident', like the monster everyone else in the world personified him to be.

"Leave." Was the deadly chord that his voice struck, leaving it sit thick in the air.

Most of the people were even thicker.

"My Lord, wh-" Lucius cut himself off with a squawked out choke; a very much undignified sound coming from a man of his stature. Of course, they all pitied him; the Dark Lord had a thing for using the Cruciatus, 'such a simple, fun spell' he had claimed in his earlier years of near-sanity.

Everyone ran like Hell. Literally ran. Not gracefully exited the room with saying their parting respects to their lord beforehand; nope, they just ran, with a limping simpering Lucius following them with his ego bringing up the rear.

Everyone but Severus of course.

"Why are you still here?!"

"My Lo-"

"LEAVE! YOU DO NOT DISOBEY ME! I AM THE DARK LORD!" He screamed, shrieked and bellowed. His wand shooting sparks and his ruby eyes dilating.

Severus felt rather…rejected. Was he truly a nobody in this man's eyes, _still?_ After years of practically kissing the ground this man walked on, after all this time, was he still just…why did this feel so much like being shot down, rejected, rather than a master dismissing his servant.

He was about to bow and leave, when something clicked.

His master was afraid. The way he was behaving was not like any normal anger or impatience. This was his way of masking his fear; lashing out to protect himself, from whom or what, he did not know.

"You're frightened." Severus stated calmly, straightening his back.

"You insolent, little brat! I am _not_ afraid of anything!" The hand that held his wand was beginning to tremble, and his eyes were becoming wider. The dark Lord was becoming absolutely desperate; why didn't Severus just leave him alone, just leave!? This feeling…he wasn't used to it and it frightened him. It threatened to consume him. He wanted to just lock himself away and cry in a puddle of his own self loathing in the safety of his solitude. He didn't want Severus to see him vulnerable like this; he knew very well his mask was beginning to crack. Everything was piling up on his shoulders, and his accursed heart wouldn't stop drumming at that insane pace. It wasn't stopping its battle rhythm…WHY?!

Severus calmly walked the small distance between them and stood before his master. He looked down into his master's eyes, deeply, serenely.

He could see the dark Lord's resolve beginning to crack and break.

The Dark Lord bit his lip to prevent any sound. He was tensed up so that he did not shiver.

"What are you so afraid of?" Severus asked, barely above a whisper.

The Dark Lord's eyes widened further. Oh, curse Severus and his voice! How he wanted to tell him, have someone share the burden, have someone guide him, help him, care about him…that idea sounded just beautiful, glorious.

He could feel a lump in his throat. Was he about to cry?! No! He can't cry! He was the strong leader, the man everyone feared, he did not cry under any circumstances!

Yet he felt the tears piling behind his eyes. He blinked harshly and turned away.

"Leave." He simply said, barely above a whisper.

"Please, I am here. If something scares you, frightens you, hurts you, or something just becomes too much, I am here."

"I don't need anybody! Just let me be! Please, just…please. I can't…."

He was shaking. Why?! Why must his body betray him like this?! He knew he _wanted_ Severus to hold him, tell him there was nothing to be afraid of, that he'd be the one to guide him, to control him, just for bit. Just enough so his heart wasn't so heavy. It was so fat with greed, hate, guilt, sadness, and fear. So much fear. He was so afraid it felt like his heart weighed a thousand pounds.

"Yes. You can't do anything in this state. So let me help you."

"No! I don't-"

"Stop! Just let me help you! You need someone and I'm that someone, what are you so afraid of!? Please, I promise, you have nothing to worry about in confiding in me…"

He knew he was crossing a boundary he wasn't able to go back over. He placed his arms, very calmly on the Dark Lord's shoulders. Very lightly. He made sure of this as the Dark Lord was still facing away from him; he did not wish to frighten him more.

Meanwhile, this caused Voldemort's mind to wage war against itself.

* * *

 _You Coward! Just stop crying, and calmly walk away! He isn't stupid; he can take a hint, unlike you, who seems to want to bend over backwards for him just as the mere thought of touching you, of holding you. Fucking Queer! Hello?! Get a Hold of yourself man!_

 **Jackass! We need someone in control! We are both battle worn and at our wits end…we need someone we can trust so we can tell them about the horcruxes! It's like a damn weight, carrying the knowledge that we've split our soul into-**

 _6 pieces... Yeah, I get it-_

 **But it feels** _ **-**_

 _Like more. I understand but-_

 **And our mind-**

 _Into two. I know….maybe it is time to give ourselves a little rest…_

* * *

Voldemort sighed. Then turned around. Severus never lost contact with him.

"My mind is unwell presently. I need someone who will not abuse its…less than satisfactory state. I need someone like you. No, not like. I want _you_ to help me. Keep in mind; I will not always be cooperative with your methods as my track record proves that I don't take criticism well." Voldemort's voice quivered, much to his disgust, and fat, salty tears marathoned down his face and neck.

Severus said nothing. He just studied his master's face… then embraced him whole-heartedly.

Voldemort crumbled. His body shook and quivered with the force of his sobbing.

Severus just held him tighter. Oh glory day! Finally! Voldemort telling him what he needed; and it was himself all along!

Voldemort clung on tightly. His face buried into the junction of Severus' neck, hoping to hide his shame.

Severus found it odd how there was little to no sound coming from the broken man in his arms. He wished he could cry as silently as his Lord could.

* * *

Voldemort was still sobbing, the force of his sobs wracked his body with pain which was up till then silenced, pushed away, unnoticed in the background. Somewhere deep down inside where nobody, not even himself had dared to go in years, a 5 year old Tom was shaking with the force of another shock treatment going through his body. How he missed his old nanny; she was fired the minute they found out she had hidden this child's true nature within a dank, scary orphanage everyone turned a blind eye to. Just as they did with their medical practices on children.

 _What don't kill yeah makes you that much more angrier in the end; but that don't nessacarily make you even a smidge-bit stronger; you's gotta do that shit on your own._

That's the last thing his black, silly old nanny told him. He never thought that once she was gone he would miss her. But that's when he realized before she had left, she made it so he had it easy. Tutoring, fighting, art, music, and love were not obligations the nannies had to fulfill. Nor were they even thoughts that crossed the minds of those who strapped him to the beds.

 **I think the next step is bloodletting; get the poor sucker too tired to do shit. Forced relaxation? Nah, he's plenty relaxed when he ain't talking to nobody…..**

 _The poor kid's been through enough today! Let off!_

 **He nearly killed someone and he's turning 6 in a week! And how did he do it? No one knows! Of course that's a damn good reason to keep him in the isolation ward! And** _ **you**_ **don't tell me what to do! One quick call and you'll be outta here faster than your little black ass can carry you!**

 _Mister…I don't know who you think you are, but just know that I don't care. I don't! I don't care if you're the god-damn messiah; you don't mess with my kids! I don't care if that boy's blue, green, white, Jesus, an alien, or half dog, he's mine and you don't mess with my kids!_

 **And I suppose you think that's helping yours or his case? You should know that I myself don't care who you are, because it doesn't matter; I can have you fired, shipped off to America or Hell, but frankly I've heard they're one in the same these days for black beauty's like you. So what's it gonna be toots?**

He remembered how they went back and forth, calling each other names that he at the time didn't understand the meaning of. Nor did he understand the big man who came into the room with a fake sweet demeanor when he said that he was going to be in some pain and a little tired, but that was a good thing.

He remembered being too weak to open his eye or eat, and in too much pain to care…bloodletting was one of his least favorite methods. Not that he particularly cared for any of them.

His absolute least favorite was shock treatment.

 _Zap!_

 _Pain!_

Where was he? Who was he? He wanted his nanny! Why was nobody listening? Who on Earth, wait why- JUST STOP! PLEASE I'LL DO ANYTHING I PROMI-! He lost consciousness. He began seizing without the assistance of man-made shocks. He was shaking and quivering; it took eight of the evil doctors to hold him down. Oh no! He felt that horrible needle going up his spine again! Why did they always do that?

 _My Lord!_

Wait, who on Earth is a Lord?

 _My Lord!_

Whoever they were sounded far away. That's strange…oh the pain!

He seized again. This time there was no needle, just one brave man holding him down. He felt oddly familiar, this man? Who was he? In fact where was he? Why did his body feel so sore? How old was he? 7 or 70?

 _MY LORD!_

This voice sounded distorted. Why was he yelling? Why-wait why is he so dizzy? No! Everything was going black. He tried to reach out but found no strength with which to move a single finger.

* * *

Then everything was gone.


End file.
